"Let me tell you about being here. 'Cuz you need to understand something. There are two places you can be in this world. You can be out here, like us. Or you can be in there, like them."

It (2017 Film Adaptation) ~ Chase Palmer & CJ Fukunaga

JUNE, 1985

SINCLAIR FARM, HAWKINS

Lucas often worked the afternoons after school on his grandparents' farm. He got paid for his work well and liked to spend the cash more often than not in the arcade. Although he'd teased Dustin earlier about spending all summer playing video games it was mostly because he resented the fact he'd probably have to help out his granddad instead of hanging out with the guys. Still, he loved them even if the situation wasn't ideal. The only real problem was the sort of work his grandfather was trying to force him to do now. He stood with a stun bolt in his hand waiting for the slat to lift. About 50 sheep milled about in the slaughter pen on the other side of that slat. The path that led up to the actual slaughtering bit got progressively narrower until the sheep waiting were forced to line up.

Lucas's grandfather hoisted the slat and a bow-legged, skittery creature stumbled into the pen. Its fleece was thin, having only been sheared a couple weeks ago, but was still clumped with mud on the underside. Its ears were disproportionate to its triangular head and large ugly eyes stared up at Lucas woefully. He held the gun the way his granddad had taught him, aiming it at its glabella (the space between its eyes) with both hands wrapped around it for balance and support. He kept it locked there for several hesitant moments until his hands started shaking and his granddad snatched it away from him. "You should've just pulled it."

"But doesn't it seem wrong, you're taking a life?" Lucas was by no means a vegetarian but that didn't mean he wasn't against the mindless slaughter of them. It felt wrong for them to be helplessly trapped in a pen marching themselves to their death. His granddad sighed.

"People need to eat son, besides it's all over so fast that they don't feel a thing. Remember what I said? If the animal senses what you're about to do it feels fear. Fear causes adrenaline to rush through it which changes the taste and the meat winds up tough." He brought the stun bolt down and pulled the trigger without even blinking. The sheep fell to the floor and Lucas's eyes drifted down to stare at its carcass bleeding out on the floor. His granddad passed off the stun bolt to a farm hand to reload whilst another one removed the dead sheep. His grandfather manoeuvred Lucas towards the door whilst the slat was raised and another sheep took its place, this one dying in significantly less time than the previous one. His grandfather gestured to the bright red parcels being packed into Lucas's bike basket. "You're a good kid Lucas, you work hard but I'm going to give you a bit of advice. There are two places you can be in this world. You can be here, like us. Or you can be in there, like them. But if you keep hemming and hawing, that choice is going to be made for you." He paused, becoming even more serious. "Except you won't know it 'til you feel the bolt blast right between your eyes..." He tapped his grandson's forehead and Lucas flinched back, suddenly longing to be out in the sun rather than in the shade of the barn. His grandfather's eyes were dark and sombre. "Don't you forget that Lucas, don't forget." Lucas nodded just as the last package was secured in his basket. Straightening up, his granddad said, "Now go be useful elsewhere and deliver them down to the butchers. Be back by dinner and we'll see whether or not we can spare you for your summer vacation." He grinned and clapped Lucas on the shoulder but Lucas was still too shaken to do much more than return a weak smile.

As he mounted his bike he spied his little sister Erica sitting on the fence. She smiled toothily at him. "Too much of a pussy Lucas?" He scowled at her and flipped her the bird.

"Isn't it past your bed time?"

"Isn't it time you died?" Erica shot back.

"Erica Sinclair!" Both siblings jumped. Their grandmother stood on the farmhouse porch with her hands on her hips and flour dusting her floral apron. She was usually a very matronly woman, kind and gentle but now she was scowling at the young girl. "Do not antagonise your brother. In fact come inside now and help me. Lucas I'm sure Andy would much prefer the meat fresh so you run along as well." When her back was turned Erica stuck out her tongue at Lucas.

"Psycho." He muttered.

"Butt head!" She retaliated. Lucas swung his leg over the bike as their grandmother sent them a reproving look. It was only as he started picking up speed he turned.

"Fart face." He called behind him. He didn't wait to see Erica's reaction as he flew down the road and coasted into town.

HAWKINS TOWN CENTRE

Lucas rode through the centre of town, swerving past cars and cruising to a halt outside Andy's butchers. He leaned his bike up against the pole and started to untie the restraints securing the meat when a familiar blue Camaro turned onto the street. Billy spotted him before Lucas did. When he did though his eyes widened and he grabbed his handlebars, turning sharply into the alley next to him. "Get him!" He heard the loud rev of the engine and ducked behind the dumpster, tucking his bike in next to him. Thankfully it roared past him, the screeching tyres completely zooming past the alley entrance. Lucas breathed a sigh of relief although his heart was racing and sweat was perspiring on his forehead. He poked his head around the trash before wheeling out his bike and propping it against the brick wall opposite.

He'd just turned his back on the butchers when the wooden door used for loading banged loudly. He jumped, almost dropping the parcels as he spun around. He was still on edge about Billy. It banged again, straining against the padlocked chain and wobbling on its hinges. Lucas took a step back. The old wood creaked alarmingly and a single black hand curled around the edge. Lucas stared at it in horror. All the skin was charred and pussy, bubbled up flesh flopping grotesquely and revealing ashy bone underneath. Something like burnt blood oozed from the wounds like thick, sludgy lava. As soon as Lucas fully comprehended what he was seeing three more hands clawed between the cracked door and the butchers behind it. Smoke billowed out, thick and grey and suffocating. An orange glow flickered wildly and cast warped shadows on the brick behind Lucas's back. Sounds, mainly screams rippled from the haunting image. Vaguely familiar voices crying out and pleading with him. "Help Lucas!" They called, "Help! We're at the door!" He was utterly transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away. He took a shaky step forward, and then another. Horrible memories and nightmares looped through his mind, incorporating this ghastly sight into them. He was trembling, fear and confusion running riot throughout his body. When he was within arms reach of the door it suddenly flew open. On instinct he skipped back a step as the padlock splintered and the chain whipped through the handle.

There was no fire and no mangled hands. At first it appeared like the usual empty backroom of the butchers but then something twitched behind the plastic sheets. Lucas knew that Andy's was no longer an active slaughter house but he had to question it for a second when the plastic rustled and something bleated quietly. It bleated again and Lucas shook his head, sure he wasn't hearing right. He almost convinced himself it was just the nerves from Billy and his flashback when the ghost of a whisper trailed down his spine. Not a flashback it said, the sick amusement almost tangible. The meat hooks clinked together and the bleating began again, behind the plastic sheet disfigured lumps distorted into animalistic shapes that rocked forward on their hooks moaning in pain and terror. Everything from the heads that bucked to the thighs and legs that twitched and kicked. It was nightmarish and Lucas found his breaths coming in shorter and shallower. His eyes widened in panic and the familiar sensation of vomit sliding up his throat sent his heart skittering even faster. Between the hooks and writhing hunks of meat a somewhat human-like shape twirled back and forth. It swung around carelessly and waggled its feet as it floated a couple millimetres off of the floor, one hand dangling itself from a hook whilst the other waved at Lucas. It turned its face towards him and two flashes of amber bloomed in the darkness, replacing the creatures eyes. Lucas felt a hopelessly overwhelming surge of fear before the purr of an engine distracted him and the eyes, along with the entire vision, were gone.

Meanwhile Max was in the car with Billy and his goons. All she'd wanted was for him to pick her up from the arcade, and since she'd asked in front of her stepdad Neil he couldn't exactly say no. Except he'd picked his crew up, Billy didn't have friends, en route and she was positive they'd all been smoking. She'd seen James stuff something suspiciously like a joint in his pocket before she got in the car. All four of them were high and it wasn't a pleasant experience on a normal day but today they'd caught sight of Lucas at the butchers. "It's Sinclair." Troy had pointed out.

Max's heart had leapt into her throat, seeing her brother's eyes light up with malicious intent. "Billy don't." She warned. He shot her a glare that would normally be enough to cow her but the thought of Lucas, sweet, funny Lucas who always stood up for his friends, facing Billy all alone put a horrible, guilty, gut-wrenching twist in her stomach. Billy was dangerous enough when he was sober and that was something he was clearly not at the moment. Neither were any off his friends, thankfully she was riding shotgun and didn't have to sit in the back with them. "Billy, no stop!" He pressed his foot down on the accelerator but luckily Lucas had already spotted them and cleared out.

"Why so protective Maxine? Are you dating that scum?"

"He's 14! The only scum is you!" Billy's hand darted out so suddenly that Max didn't really see it. She felt the crack to her cheek though as her head whipped to side when he backhanded her. He and his gang all laughed around her, whooping and hollering as they turned at the top of the street.

"I don't suppose it matters whether you're dating, you've probably already spread your legs for him." Hot angry tears sprung to her eyes, his thugs all cackling appreciatively. It was obvious Billy didn't give a shit about her reputation, but then again rumours had to start from somewhere right? She hated him. Hated him with every fibre of her being and she let her anger simmer under the surface. One day she'd make him pay. She was patient, had to be living in a house like hers, and boy could she hold a grudge. She stupidly thought that was it, that the boys had had their fun and were going home, even they weren't exempt from the mandatory curfew. She was wrong. Billy gained a cruel smirk as he lined up the car to turn into the alley where Lucas was stood, frozen in place and significantly paler. Max felt her own face drain of colour.

"Billy please!" He didn't listen. The other three guys were all cheering, erratic and out of control and Billy seemed to be feeding off of it like a manic drug addict. "Billy I'm serious!" Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Billy honked the horn and very clearly basked in the boy's flinch as he turned to stare at them, wide-eyed and horrified. Whatever he'd just witnessed had clearly rattled him and Max was silently screaming at him to just move! To run, to do anything other than just stand there as Billy pressed his foot down and floored it. The Camaro screamed towards the immobile boy like it was going to chew him up and spit him back out. MOVE! Max willed, please move. Finally it was if a light had come back on inside his head as Lucas's eyed widened a fraction more, something Max thought impossible, before he threw himself to the side. He dove towards his bike but he was too late, the car was hurtling towards him at an ungodly speed and he wasn't going to make it. Without consciously realising what she was doing Max threw her full weight at Billy and jerked the steering wheel, tugging it out of his control and wrenching it to the side. The car swerved suddenly and Lucas survived it, crashing to the floor next to his bike whilst the car carried on. Max turned her head worried.

Billy flung around wildly to face her, wrestling back the wheel. "THAT WAS A CLOSE ONE HUH?!" He yelled, him and the others were roaring so loud that it drowned out the sound of the engine. Max was knocked back into her seat, all the wind taken out of her, but the adrenaline was still flooding through her veins and making her hands jittery. She could still feel her heart racing at about a million miles per hour and her breathing was laboured. Billy's face was alive with energy, the type that was so blinding and bright you had to look away but only the sharp, hateful kind. She could only stare at him in horror, they'd almost killed Lucas, almost taken away a life simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She turned to face the window, curling up in her seat and ignoring the rest of the car passengers even when they blasted music so loud it vibrated the glass in its frame.

It was only when the others had been dropped off and the car was uncomfortably silent, human-wise since the music was still blasting, that Billy acknowledged her again. The drugs seemed to have worn off and he was at least somewhat sober. That or the prospect of returning to their house was enough of a shock to the system. Max didn't really care, the damage had been done. Billy kept snatching glances at her and frowning. She wasn't responsive. He lowered the volume of the music by a smidge but she still didn't acknowledge him. Irritation flared up inside of him. "You gonna say anything Max?" She usually had a sharp word, or three, on the tip of her tongue.

"What's the point Billy? You'll just get pissed off again and my face is already bust up enough, thanks." He scowled, not liking her attitude. If he wanted to talk to spineless wimps he'd find a plentiful pick in this crummy town. No, it was the fight that got him going, the dawning realisation and accompanying fear that no matter how much they resisted he'd always win. On the other hand at least he'd finally managed to drill into her head to stop being such a whiny brat.

As they pulled up next to their house, a crappy one storey thing that was no where near big enough for the three of them, Billy turned to face her. She was still staring out of the window so flinched when Billy grabbed her. He roughly grasped her chin, turning it so he could inspect her face and tilting it to the left and then the right. She jerked away angrily but he only rolled his eyes. "Go in through your window, Neil won't notice anyway but you don't want to get in trouble for fighting, especially on the last day of school." She scowled. That was his not so subtle threat of snitch and I'll do worse. Before she used to find it weird how he called his father by his first name but after living with said man and witnessing his discipline first hand she could understand. That didn't mean she pitied Billy, or even sympathised with him. She'd stopped caring about him all together when he started taking it out on her. Billy narrowed his eyes at the stubborn set of her jaw. He knew as well as she did that she wouldn't rat him out, it would only end in trouble for the both of them. Still, she could pretend. "I'll leave an ice pack outside your door." He muttered, as if that meant everything was ok again. Who knows, maybe to Billy it did? Max honestly couldn't tell anymore, the whole family was so fucked up in the head it would take decades to untangle that mess. Unfortunately as of right now it was the only family she had.

MELVALD'S CONVENIENCE STORE, HAWKINS

Will was sat in the corner of the local convenience store with his biology text book propped open on his lap. His mom was working the cash register and chatting with one of the regulars. Will didn't usually mind spending his afternoons at the shop, it allowed him time to study, but the school had literally just been let out for summer vacation and there wasn't really anything to revise for. He could draw but that often took hours, a lot longer than he had before Jonathan came to pick him up. Instead he'd decided to work on his spelling. His dyslexia was mild but still noticeable, mainly in his writing, and biology was the worst subject for it. The textbook showed all these awful, long scientific names that were complicated enough to say let alone write. His teacher Mr Clarke tried to help him when he could but Will was very conscious of high school looming ever closer. Mr Clarke wouldn't be there then and he doubted his friends would be in the same class either. It was a shame because biology was actually one of his favourite lessons, he always found it easier to sketch people when he knew how their bodies were supposed to work. It also made proportioning a lot quicker because he was able to spot how much muscle was supposed to go where and which organs were more cushioned by fat. If only the spelling was easier.

Currently he was trying to spell anatomy. He was copying it out letter by letter and enunciating each syllable slowly to try and cement it into his brain. The two a's on either side of the n kept tripping him up. It just didn't look right. He heard his mom's shoes squeak on the linoleum as she came up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, peering over to look at his notebook. She smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling and showing off her laugh lines. "That's good honey. You're getting better." Will seriously doubted it but tried nodding convincingly for his mother. She didn't buy it but still ruffled his hair and bent down to kiss his cheek. "Jonathan's going to be here soon sweetheart so I think that's enough studying for today." She closed up the book for him. "Besides, it's summer vacation you should be out with your friends." She fixed him with a mock stern frown and then softened when it coaxed a smile out of him.

Joyce Byers wasn't like the other mom's. She was open, maternal and comforting. All of his friends preferred Will's house to their own, regardless of their financial status. She always welcomed them with open arms and was so loving that it was impossible to not feel warm around her. That's not to say she was harmless. Back in third grade Will remembered being shoved so hard he banged his head on the floor and chipped his tooth. That was before his dad moved out and Joyce had flown into such a terrible rage. He could take it out on her but never on the kids, Will still recalls huddling with Jonathan and watching with awe filled eyes as she kicked her husband out of the house and out of their lives. It was a turning point for the family and from then on Joyce swore she'd never let her kids down again, that she would be the best mother she could be and so far she had. The only snag was that no matter how many times Will or Jonathan asked her not to she'd always hang up their piece of art that they thought was the worst to try and prove to them that it was beautiful. Will couldn't see how Jonathan could create ugly photos but he sure as hell could create nightmarish sketches and paintings. His most awful one yet hung up in the backroom of the store.

A customer rang the bell at the till and both Joyce and Will jumped. Joyce squeezed him as she huffed out a laugh. "Duty calls. Would you mind grabbing a couple Kleenex packs from the back? There should be some in the green box, aisle 3 is out." Will hesitated and almost refused but the customer rang again and his mom shot a harrowed look over her shoulder. He swallowed down his fear.

"Sure mom." She smiled again and pecked his cheek.

"What'd I do to deserve a kid like you?" Will shifted uncomfortably and began packing away his notebook. Joyce laughed. "If it's too heavy don't try and pick it up. Wait for me and I'll get Jonathan to do it." He nodded as the bell rang for the third time and Joyce scowled. "I'm coming!" She yelled.

"Yeah? So's Christmas!" The chief's voice echoed back. Joyce stalked off muttering darkly under her breath and Will couldn't help but let a small grin slip.

The backroom was fairly large but with all the boxes and shelving units there wasn't an actual lot of space. The room was dim, lit by the sunlight trying to filter in through a very grimy window. It was the sort of window that you might find in the public toilets, you know the really small ones that are too high up to open or clean. The boss was very strict on wasting electricity so the lights were kept off until the sky turned completely dark and whilst Will was very tempted to flip them on he didn't want his mom to get into trouble.

On one of the only blank patches of wall hung the dreaded art work. It was an old oil painting Will had tried doing after learning about Titian's more religious pieces in art. A shadow was stretched across the canvas but it wasn't a normal shadow. Its face was elongated, the forehead stretching almost to the top of the frame. Its eyes were uneven and beady black like they were blind, only Will had subtly detailed them to give the overall effect that it was seeing more than they knew. It was ghastly and grotesque, its mouth twisted in a grisly smile whilst smoky tendrils infected the white memorial made from sanded bone. It probably wasn't as obvious to anyone else who saw the piece but Will was the artist and knew what he'd intended. He knew every detail of his work, every inch had been cultivated from the dark matter of his nightmares and this depth of knowledge only further fuelled his fear. He'd wanted it burnt, had begged for it to be tossed in the fire and destroyed but his mom was adamant that such talent should never be forgotten. As a compromise she'd hung it here, in the storage room.

Will shielded his face with his hand, holding it up straight like blinkers on a horse. As he crossed in front of the painting he swore he could feel its eyes watching. Green box, green box, find the green box. He hurried further into the room, his search taking him towards the shelf at the back. A terrible clatter sounded behind him just as he's spotted the Kleenex and his shoulders instinctively bunched as he started. Breathing heavily and scolding his overactive imagination Will slowly turned around. The frame had fallen on the floor. The nail hung crookedly on the wall and when Will edged forward he subconsciously remarked that the shadows suddenly seemed slightly more oppressive than before. "Stop being stupid," He whispered to himself. "It's just a dusty old painting, that's all." Only, when Will curled his fingers under the frame and flipped it over there was no painting. Well the background was there, a disturbing smoky red background that reeked of death and destruction, but the shadow monster was gone. It had simply vanished. Rattling breaths drifted lazily around the room and Will prayed that it was from another store's employee. He felt his chest tightening up. The store wouldn't hire anyone with breathing difficulties because of the strenuous hours. There was a presence behind him and he felt the uncontrollable urge to shiver when a chill crept down his spine, like that saying about someone walking across your grave. The breathing was cut off abruptly before another thud sounded and something met the floor. It was heavy but managed to skitter across the wooden boards until it came to a stop at his heels.

When Will whipped around the first thing he registered was that it was tall. It towered above him and was mostly concealed in the low light but those eyes glowed with unfathomable knowledge and its tiny pinprick nostrils flared as if sensing his fear. The pointed chin dropped and its mouth opened, revealing rows of sharp, needle-like teeth covered in a greyish mucus. A lump lodged itself in Will's throat and prevented him from making a sound. The skin was the mottled grey of decaying corpses and cracked like old oil on canvas. The vice like grip he felt constricting his chest was surely going to crush his lungs as his breathing became far too rapid. There was noise again, a lot of it but none of it comprehensible. It sounded like children and death and parties. It was all too much. Will turned tail and ran, bolting for the door and forgetting all about the green box with the Kleenex in it.

© ELIXB | 2020